The Slippery Slope
by Wilusa
Summary: After giving in on one point, and then another, Libby is faced with a dilemma she hadn't anticipated. Can be read as a standalone, or as a followup to 'The Unkindest Cut.'
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Carnivale and its canon characters are the property of HBO and the show's producers; no copyright infringement is intended.

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_"What happened to me?"_

_"You got hurt in a fight, Ben, but you're doin' fine. Do you remember the fight?"_

_"Oh, yeah. Sure. With...one o' the rousties?"_

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"I'm just askin' you to _dance_, Lib," Samson coaxed. "You know we're shorthanded. Sabina an' Rollo were two of our biggest attractions, an' we gotta keep them under wraps for a while 'cause Crowe's seen them." Rightly or wrongly, he believed that if their carnival could be identified as the one that had been in New Canaan, they'd be hounded by the law and targeted by assassins.

"If we don't want to starve," he went on, "the cootch show has to attract the rubes. An' who ever heard of a cootch show with only one dancer?"

Libby glowered at him. "Are you sure what you're askin' is 'proper'? After all, by _your_ reckonin', I'm a new widow!" She still resented his admission that he believed Jonesy was dead.

"C'mon, Lib. We all gotta pull together here."

"I've been helpin' Ruthie an' Gabe take care o' Ben -"

"Yeah, an' everyone appreciates that. But Gabe says he's doin' a little better now. I know you can take some time away. Just do dance routines you an' Rita Sue have used for years, that won't need no rehearsin'.

"Even when Jonesy was here, you were willin' to _dance_, when you knew your folks needed money!"

Yes. But then she'd had her husband for moral support, a strong male voice to back up her refusal if she was asked to do more.

Ben's being "a little better" didn't mean much. The high fevers and raving delirium had passed; but he was still wracked by pain, drifting in and out of consciousness, never truly lucid. Libby couldn't ask him for advice.

Her parents wouldn't express opinions, one way or the other. They just looked embarrassed.

"All right," she said reluctantly. "But only dancin', you hear?"

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_"What happened to me?"_

_"You got hurt in a fight, but you're doin' fine. Do you remember the fight?"_

_"Yeah, sure I do. With, uh...a friend o' Burley's?"_

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Samson was waiting for her when she came out of Ruthie's trailer. "This business with the dancin' ain't workin', Lib."

"I know it ain't workin'!" She was tired and irritable. "For God's sake, you hafta let Daddy hire someone."

"Out o' the question." As she headed for her family's tent, he tagged along beside her. "I've heard how the rubes behaved the last few nights. Bein' real cruel to your mama, hissin' her an' sayin' they want to see the _young_ one strip. Don't you feel bad for your mama, want to help her? They always appreciated her just fine when you were both strippin'."

"But now I'm -" She broke off.

"You were gonna say 'a married woman,' weren't you?"

"Yeah." She felt tears welling up in her eyes, and muttered a curse.

_Am __**I **__startin' to believe I ain't a married woman no more?_

"Your mama's married, too. An' I ain't askin' you to do everythin' she does, just to strip. Jonesy would understand."

"No, he wouldn't."

They argued all the way back to the Dreifusses' tent, where she found Rita Sue in tears.

Stumpy just stood there looking helpless, as Samson continued the pitch to his daughter. At one point he opened his mouth...then closed it again.

_Thanks a heap, Daddy_.

At last she broke down. "Okay, I'll strip, damn it! But I ain't doin' no blow-off."

_That_ resolution lasted for only one night.

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_"I don't understand why I'm still alive."_

_"Huh?"_

_"I done what I was put on earth to do, killed the Usher. I don't understand why God left me here, like __**this**__. Bein' a burden to other people."_

_"You're gonna be fine! An' till you are, it ain't no burden for any of us to take care o' you. It's an honor." _

_"Sweet o' you to say that, Lib, but we both know it's a crock. An' __**you**__ should be spendin' more time with your husband. You're still newlyweds!"_

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Samson approached her again. "Lib -"

"No! I know what you're gonna ask, an' the answer is no!"

She already felt dirty - as she never had in the old days. _Before Jonesy made an honest woman o' me_, she thought, recognizing the irony of that good-humored saying as applied to her.

"I _wouldn't_ ask," Samson told her, "if we weren't flat broke."

He didn't mention that he'd given Rita Sue the entire "nut" back in New Canaan, to help pay off Stumpy's gambling debt. But Libby knew he hadn't forgotten.

She, however, hadn't forgotten that he owed _her_, big time, for having ruined her reputation in the troupe. To lend credibility to the notion that Jonesy and Sofie had run off together, he'd spread a false rumor that she'd gotten Jonesy drunk to induce him to marry her.

In the most withering tone she could summon up, she said, "Ain't you got no shame?"

"At this point," he said bluntly, "no."

But then he looked up at her - and she saw for the first time that his face was gray, his eyes haunted.

"Truth is, Lib, the question 'bout turnin' tricks wasn't the first one I meant to ask you today."

"It wasn't? Sorry. What _was_ the first question?"

"I need a _report_. Sometimes I ain't sure I can trust Ruthie. You know why."

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Libby gave a faint gasp. His actually saying that came as a shock. But after a beat, she nodded, and said reluctantly, "I know."

Then she felt she had to add, "I care about Ben too, y'know!"

"Yeah, but you ain't in love with him."

"Can't argue with that." She thought for a few seconds, then said, "He's still in a lot o' pain. All the time. We ain't got nothin' to give him but aspirin an' whiskey.

"An' he's real helpless, so weak that he can't even feed hisself. Can't keep solid food down, anyway. Ruthie thinks his intestines are hurt.

"But he's awake more. An' " - this was the key point, the hardest thing for her to say - "his mind is clear. He recognizes us, remembers things he should remember."

"New Canaan?" Samson said softly.

"Yeah. He remembers he killed the Usher. He's been frettin' 'bout Sofie, an' for a couple days, we kept tellin' him, 'She's safe, but that's all we know.' Now he's caught on that we ain't been honest with him. When he gets on that subject, he gets mad an' frustrated.

"He understands that we're a safe distance from New Canaan, an' you're busy runnin' things. He never knew Jonesy had gone missin', so he ain't worried 'bout him."

After a heavy silence, Samson said, "Sounds like it's about time."

She couldn't stop herself from blurting out, "No!"

From the beginning, they'd longed for Ben to show improvement - but they'd also dreaded it. Because at some point, Samson and Ruthie would have to tell him the awful truth: Justin Crowe had come back to life.

"Tellin' him too soon could kill him!" Libby protested. "The condition he's in, he could thrash around an' hurt hisself more, or have a heart attack or stroke -"

"D'you think I don't know that?" Samson said fiercely. "It's even possible he'll _never_ be well enough to hear this news without its killin' him. But some one o' these days, I'll have to take the chance.

"I went along with Ruthie, ain't risked upsettin' him by bargin' into the trailer myself an' maybe remindin' him o' New Canaan too soon.

"But she's so afraid o' hurtin' him more that she'll never admit he _might_ be ready. An' if he is, damn it, he needs to know! Hawkins is some kind o' divine Prophet o' Light, an' his mission ain't over. Not with Crowe still out there."

They lapsed into troubled silence.

Until Samson spoke up and said, almost incredulously, "I'm rememberin' somethin' you mentioned - _aspirin an' whiskey?_"

"Wh-what?"

"All Ruthie's got to give him for pain is aspirin an' whiskey? I didn't know we were that bad off."

"Yeah..." She'd never really thought about alternatives. Now, suddenly, she did. "Shit. If we had more money, we could buy medical supplies, couldn't we? Painkillers an' stuff!"

"You mean, if we had _any_ money."

She looked at him and said, slowly, "There's money in whorin'."

"Yeah, Lib, there is."


	2. Chapter 2

_This is different_, she told herself that night, as she listened to Stumpy haggle, outside the tent, with the man who'd be her first john. _It ain't admittin' Jonesy's dead, ain't goin' back to what I was. It's all for Ben, so's we can buy drugs - morphine, whatever - to help get him through the crisis he'll have when he learns about Crowe_.

She wondered, darkly, whether Lila had a year's supply of opium in her trailer. The "Bearded Lady of Brussels" was so ornery that Ben's friends weren't willing to ask her for anything.

Rita Sue and Stumpy, however, had immediately agreed that in this emergency, their share of Rita Sue's hard-earned cash would, like Libby's, go to the "medical supplies fund." The share normally taken by Samson - income for the carnival - would be routed to the same end.

_I'll work all night if there's takers_, Libby resolved. _An' all day too, with just enough time out for the dancin' an' strippin'! It'll only be for, maybe, a few weeks. Just till Ben's out o' the woods_.

She tried to dismiss the traitorous thought _Or till he's dead_.

Stumpy and the john finally came to terms, and the man slunk into the tent. Where she was already posed seductively on the bed, wearing only a G-string.

She wasn't surprised to see that he was the one who'd been ogling her most intently during the striptease.

_Old enough to be my grandpa._ _Hell, he probably __**is**__ someone's grandpa. An' the creep ain't even had the decency to take off his weddin' ring_.

Hers was safely stashed away. She wouldn't defile it by wearing it while she was doing this.

The creep unzipped his fly.

She gave him her prettiest smile.

And carnies began shouting, not far away. The shouts were followed by actual screams. Within moments, it sounded as if the whole troupe was in an uproar.

The john stammered, "Wh-what the hell's goin' on?"

"I dunno."

She was terrified. Was it a police raid? Or had something happened to Ben?

She couldn't make out what emotion lay behind the shouting. It was just an infernal din.

Coming closer.

Then, right outside the tent, a very familiar - and very angry - voice yelled, "Stumpy! Have you been pimpin' my wife?"

Libby let out a shriek.

Stumpy protested, "It ain't as bad as you think, Jonesy - _**owww!**_"

She knew from the assorted crashing sounds that her husband had sent her father sprawling.

Jonesy burst into the tent, took one look at Libby - and then, spun around and vented his fury on the terrified john. With no concern for the age difference, he gave the man the same treatment he'd given Stumpy. Finally, he picked him up bodily and hurled him out of the tent.

By then, a half-clad Rita Sue had rushed over from her curtained-off section, and was hanging onto Jonesy and trying to restrain him. "It really ain't what you think! Special circumstances. Tonight was the first, an' they hadn't done nothin' yet -"

_**"I don't care!"**_

He shoved Rita Sue away, and strode over to the quaking Libby.

She thought he was about to hit _her_.

But instead, he swept her into his arms, holding her so tight that she was afraid he'd break her bones without meaning to.

There was no mistaking his erection.

"You're hittin' the sack with _**me!**_" he commanded. "_**Me**_, an' no one else. _**Now!**_"

She'd never be sure what would have happened if she'd refused.

But refusing him was the furthest thing from her mind. She leapt up on him, wrapped her legs around him...and didn't even notice when Rita Sue went to find the red pig.

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In between bouts of frenzied lovemaking, Jonesy explained that when he'd tried to "rescue" Sofie, she'd inexplicably shot him. (Libby growled, "That bitch" - and decided that thereafter, that was the way she'd always refer to her onetime seducer.) The wound had been relatively minor. But he'd still had to seek treatment in New Canaan, and hide out there for a week.

He'd learned that Varlyn Stroud was dead - _he'd_ evidently managed to kill him. He'd clobbered him with a log, only catching him in the shoulder; but when the thug went down he'd hit his head, hard, on a wooden porch floor. That had seemingly done him in.

Sofie appeared to be a loyal disciple of Crowe's, not under any kind of duress. And Crowe himself was "unwell," but only slightly inconvenienced.

"I thought o' stealin' a gun an' tryin' to kill him myself," Jonesy said ruefully. "But I figured that if Hawkins hadn't been able to do it, an ordinary man wouldn't stand a chance."

He'd lost track of the carnival, and guessed Samson must have changed its name. So he'd chased after other carnivals, checking out their personnel, till he found some former Carnivale rousties who'd quit recently enough that they could tell him its new name. After that, finding it had been time-consuming, but otherwise fairly easy.

He looked stricken when Libby told him about Ben's condition.

"Shit. I'd heard from them rousties that he was in bad shape when they split. But I was sure, bein' what he is, he'd be okay by now.

"I meant to see you first, quick, an' then, right away, go find him or Samson an' ask what's been goin' on. But when some o' the carnies told me what Stumpy had you doin', I just snapped. Samson tried to stop me an' talk to me, an' I damn near bowled him over."

"Uh, don't blame Daddy -"

But before she could say more, he covered her mouth with a kiss.

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Libby woke first in the morning, and did a lot of thinking while she lay snuggled against the man she loved.

When he woke, he kissed her passionately, but then said, "I gotta rush, Lib. Maybe a quick shower - then I gotta find Samson, apologize for last night, an' ask what I can do to help.

"After that, I'm gonna come back here an' give Stumpy a talkin'-to. Maybe another drubbin', if I think he needs it! There's no way I'm lettin' him use you like that!"

She sat up in bed. "_Clayton_. I tried to tell you this last night, but I couldn't get a word in edgeways.

"Daddy wasn't forcin' me to sell myself. No one was forcin' me. It was my idea.

"An' while last night was rightly just for us, I _am_ gonna have johns tonight. Not in our tent, but here, in the Dreifuss family tent. I'm gonna keep it up for a while, 'cause we need the money. To help Ben."

Jonesy had turned purple. " 'Help Ben'? That's ridiculous! Help him how?"

She explained about the "medical supplies fund." About needing to have something better than aspirin and whiskey on hand, before they risked giving Ben news that might kill him. "He saved your life, Clayton! I ain't forgotten that, an' I never will."

"There's gotta be another way. I won't have no wife o' mine whorin'."

"If you want to have _this_ wife, you'll damn well put up with it! I'm a grown woman, an' I ain't your property!"

They glared at each other for a minute.

And then Jonesy began to chuckle.

She was exasperated. "What?"

He shook his head. "Whorin' for a worthy cause. If that don't beat all!

"Woman, I love your gumption." Suddenly, he was on top of her, pinning her down - and flashing a brilliant grin. "I don't know exactly where your 'gumption' is, so I reckon I'll explore the various parts o' you till I find it!"

"You _were_ gonna apologize to Samson -"

"Samson can wait."

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The End


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